


Reality Blows

by AlexandraElla



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Brendon Urie - Freeform, Bromance, Denial, Friends to Lovers, Gay Male Character, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Panic at the Disco - Freeform, Psychological Drama, Ryan Ross - Freeform, Ryden, Rydon, Self-Denial, Sexual Content, Sexual Identity, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-13
Updated: 2011-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-16 22:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexandraElla/pseuds/AlexandraElla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon Urie doesn't think that he has a problem with alcohol. An uninvited house guest thinks otherwise. Is Brendon the man he think he is?<br/>Will his relationship with Ryan ever be the same?<br/>Rydon/Ryden</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reality Blows

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Brendon - obviously. This is solely a piece of fiction and none of the events has happened whatsoever.

 **A/N:** A one-shot based on a dream I dreamt last night. Have fun reading!  
... Gah, It turned out to be more than an one-shot.

 

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Brendon threw the empty booze bottle in the sink carelessly. It broke with a loud scrunching sound and the smallest shards of glass danced down the drain. Brendon decided that he wouldn't bother with cleaning it up just yet. He just wanted a couple hours of sleep first.  
It was one of those nights where Brendon had downed a couple of drinks because he felt bored. He was alone in his big house and had a loaded liquor selection which cried for him to drink some of it. Brendon found nothing wrong with it as he was a grown man. Fully allowed to drink alcohol.  
What he tried to suppress was that the drinking occasions had started to happen more often.

Brendon wasn't exactly drunk. He felt fuzzy, warm and invincible but didn't splutter or have a problem with his balance.

He inhaled the dry air and parted his lips. "Bye sun." he breathed and gazed through the window at the orange sunset with his dark eyes. Brendon couldn't tear his eyes off of the sun but snapped out of the spell as soon as he couldn't see the flaming ball of helium anymore. What if someone mooned on the moon, he thought and giggled. It was amusing to think that the satellites circulating the moon would photograph a naked butt. And even funnier to think about what the scientists' reactions would be.

Brendon walked into his bedroom and undressed. The black t-shirt and his blue skinny jeans was thrown onto a chair. His new black boxers was allowed to stay on as he crawled underneath the soft covers and sighed happily.  
Being a little bit intoxicated drowned his feelings of being alone and left out. He shifted in the bed to find the perfect position to sleep in.

As Brendon laid on his side he felt a strange pressure to his left. Like someone was lying right next to him.  
He pushed the thought out of his head and grunted as he relaxed every muscle in his body. The relaxation didn't last for long though as Brendon felt a pair of arms wrapping around his waist. I haven't invited someone, have I?, Brendon thought. No, he then answered himself. Brendon immediately became tense.  
Someone was spooning him and breathing into his ear.

Brendon didn't have time or sense enough to be afraid. He turned to face the uninvited spooner and gasped. It was himself.  
Or well, himself with paler skin and dark circles underneath his eyes. The pale Brendon reeked of alcohol and sweat and he was shaking slightly.  
"What the fuck?" Brendon blurted out and jerked. He knocked a lamp on his bedside table over in his outburst and his covers were partly removed. The intruder was wearing nothing but unfresh black boxers with a big hole on the side.

"Surprised to see me?" the pale Brendon asked and grinned. His teeth were yellow and he had wrinkles on his forehead as he smiled.  
Brendon couldn't understand why a shabby imitator of himself would go so far that he actually broke into his house. This guy must be insane, Brendon figured. "Yes. Who are you? Why are you disguised to look like me?" Brendon asked with fear in his voice.

The intruder laughed merrily and shook his head. Greasy locks of hair fell onto his face. "Don't you understand?" he then asked without really answering Brendon's questions.  
Maybe this is a dream, Brendon thought and everything clicked. Of course it was a dream! There was simply no other explanations.  
"Yeah, I do. You are only in my imagination. I'm dreaming." Brendon stated and smiled as he thought that he had figured it all out. "Just a bad dream." he repeated quietly for himself.

The intruder sighed and rolled his eyes. Then he sat up in the bed and scratched Brendon's cheek with the long nail on his index finger. Brendon wailed and touched the place where the intruder had penetrated his skin. Brendon froze as he saw blood on his hands. The wound stung like a bitch.  
"Still think it's a dream?" the pale imitator asked calmly. No, Brendon thought. This is real.

Suddenly he felt anger bubbling up from within and he balled his fists up. No one had the right of coming into his house in the middle of the night! "You fucker!" Brendon screeched and punched the intruder across his face.  
An electric shock went through Brendon's body and he felt rippling pain on his face. A power made him jolt back and fall off of the bed. Blood ran down his face from where his eyebrow had split open.  
The intruder got out of the bed and sat down next to Brendon who was lying splayed out on the floor. "Get it now?" he asked softly.

Brendon coughed and groaned. He had no idea about what was going on. All he knew was that it was something wrong with the imitator and that he was dangerous.  
"Don't kill me." he whispered to recieve a scoffing laugh from the pale version of himself. "Think Brendon. Think."  
Brendon didn't feel invincible anymore. He tried to focus on everything that the intruder had said.  
When Brendon had tried to hit him, he had hit himself instead. He was slowly starting to get it.

"You are me..." Brendon whispered and closed his eyes. The pale Brendon clapped his hands. "Bing! Score! Finally..."

Brendon grimaced. "But you look terrible."  
"Thank you for that nice compliment!" the intruder said sarcastically. "Now, come on. I have to show you something." he continued.

The pale Brendon got up to his feet and grabbed Brendon's hand and helped him to stand up. The intruder led Brendon into the bathroom and stopped in front of the sink. "Now tell me what you see." he ordered.

Brendon looked into the mirror and was shocked to see his own reflection. He had long greasy hair, pale skin, dark circles underneath his eyes and small wounds on his face. "This can't be true." he said in disbelief and watched his yellow teeth and trashed boxers. He turned around as he had so many questions to ask himself.

But the intruder was gone and Brendon was all alone to realize how bad his situation really was.


	2. The Drink Is On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon doesn't know how to react. Had the intruder been a nasty dream? Everything goes well until the singer decides to have a drink to choke his anxiety.

When Brendon woke up the following morning he felt battered. Had last night been a dream? Of course it was, he thought and smiled. Nothing that crazy could happen in reality.  
He sighed and groaned as the headache came in waves. "Fucking hangovers!" he growled and slammed his hand onto the bedside table. He searched for the package of aspirin only to find out that he had used them all already.  
"Shit." he cursed and slowly got out of the bed. The room was still dark and pleasant for his eyes. Brendon walked towards the window and inhaled sharply before removing the blinds. He screeched with pain as the light almost made his head explode.  
The bright light of the sun made him feel sick. Brendon was so mad since the morning had been a failure for him. It wasn't a promising sign of a good day at all.

The singer moved towards the bathroom to take a shower, which hopefully would be a thing to completely wake him up. As he stood in front of the sink and looked into the mirror he was surprised.  
His face looked a mess. Dried blood coming from his split eyebrow was smudged around all over his face. "What the..." Brendon started. Then he remembered why his face was like that. Brendon remembered how he had hit himself in the face when he tried to punch the mysterious doppelganger. So it wasn't a dream after all, Brendon thought. His jaw dropped and he gasped.  
He was now scared. Maybe the unfresh lookalike would return? Brendon turned cold water on in the shower and took his black boxers off. He now noticed how they had a big hole on the side.  
The singer grimaced and threw them into a corner of the bathroom. He didn't want to see them anymore.

Brendon reached with his fingers for the cascade of water which poured from the shower nozzle. He could feel how cold it was even if he wasn't touching it. The fingers vibrated an inch from the flooding water.  
The brunette man breathed slowly and broke the beam with his hand. The water was extremely cold and his hand soon went numb. The feeling was quite interesting for the singer. How it all just stopped hurting after a while. "I can do this. Come on now, Brendon." he murmured for himself before he stepped into the shower.  
A small shriek escaped his lips as the first drops of water collided with his warm skin. His wet hair got glued all over his face.  
The dried blood trickled down his body and colored the floor of the shower pink before it went down the drain. It felt like a rebirth. Being completely clean and empty of feelings.  
Every single one of Brendon's senses felt sharper. Every thought became clearer. Like the stream of oxygen to his brain had increased.

When Brendon stepped out of the shower he was all red. His member had also decided that it was way too cold for him and had disappeared for a while. As Brendon cuddled into a soft towel it started to find its way out again though.  
The singer decided that what he needed the most was clothes. He walked into the bedroom and opened the wardrobe. When he opened the door a creepy smell seeped out of it. It smelled like sour sweat.  
Brendon grimaced and shook his head. He threw every single piece of clothing out on the floor and succeeded to, after a couple of minutes, find something clean to wear.  
He put on a pair of old white boxers, a pair of loose black pants and a white t-shirt with blue stains of paint sprinkled over the chest.

After that, Brendon walked into the kitchen and found his cell phone lying on a kitchen worktop. He looked at it and saw that he had ten missed calls. All of them were from Ryan.  
The singer groaned. He knew that he had to call him back.  
His fingers dialed the number to Ryan quickly and pressed the green button. The signal blasted into Brendon's ear for a long time before it clicked. "Brendon?" a familiar voice said.  
"Yeah. It's me." Brendon answered and scratched his head. I might need to fix my eyebrow, he thought before Ryan had said anything else.  
The singer could hear a loud sigh from the guitarist.

"I've been so fucking worried! Why haven't you picked up your phone? Where are you?" the older man rambled. Brendon could almost hear how Ryan's eyes got bigger and bigger. The questions and Ryan's loud voice didn't do anything good for Brendon's headache.  
"Ehm..." Brendon started slowly. "I'm at home and I lost my phone, sorry."  
He had lied to Ryan and didn't even feel ashamed of it. "Alright... We're all at Spencer's place and trying out new songs. You should come!" Ryan continued.  
"I don't feel so well. I think I'll pass." Brendon said. That was at least not a lie.  
"Okay. But I miss you. Just so you know." Ryan mumbled with a sad tone. Brendon closed his eyes. "I miss you too." he said and hung up on the guitarist.

Brendon put the cell phone back on the kitchen worktop and noticed the shards of glass in the kitchen sink. He groaned and remembered the bottle which he had smashed yesterday night.  
The singer picked the shards up and cleaned the sink. He was amazed by the fact that he didn't cut himself. That would have been the icing on the cake that awful morning.

Brendon spent the day watching stupid shows on the TV. When it started to get dark outside he felt worry bubbling up from his stomach. He was afraid that the doppelganger would show up again soon.  
The worry grew with the minutes ad Brendon started shaking. "Fuck this." he whispered after a while and got up from his comfortable couch. He headed towards the kitchen and started searching the shelves of booze which would cure his anxiety.  
He soon found a bottle of liquor which he opened with a smile. Brendon didn't bother to find a glass to pour the clear liquid into. He simply put his lips to the opening and drank from the bottle.  
The liquid wandered down the throat with a following warmth. Brendon soon felt safe and fuzzy.  
He put the bottle down on a table. Some drops of the liquor had dripped down and stained the t-shirt even more.

When Brendon walked into the bedroom to sleep he was greeted by the doppelganger who was sitting on his bed with an old magazine in his hand. "Oh, there you are! I've been waiting for you." the disgusting copy of Brendon said and grinned. His yellow teeth shone.  
Brendon backed towards the door again and swallowed hard. "Who are you?" the singer hissed.

The doppelganger shook his head and smiled. He was wearing the same clothes as Brendon. "I'm you. I'm what you now are." he answered politely. Brendon already knew that. What he needed was more information.  
"What's that? What am I?" he asked curiously. The copy of himself grinned. "A mess."

"Why are you here?" Brendon breathed. The copy on the bed cocked his head to the side. "To remind you that you need to fight me to be the man you want to be." he said. It all confused Brendon.  
"I tried. Don't you remember? But I was the one who got hurt by the punch." the very confused drunk man said. His copy smiled and nodded. "I do remember that funny little incident. You aren't going to win this with your fists." he said with a big grin across his face.

Brendon walked closer to the man on the bed. He reached out to touch him. When Brendon's finger touched the lookalike's forehead he felt a slight pressure on his own face. He gasped.  
"How am I supposed to do it then?" Brendon asked while pressing his fingers harder on the pale copy's face.  
The other man couldn't seem to stop smiling. "You have to figure that out all by yourself."

Brendon's brain couldn't understand what the man in front of him was trying to tell him. "I have no clue. Can't you just tell me?" the singer pleaded.  
"No. I guess you're not ready yet." the sitting man answered. Brendon wrinkled his forehead and grabbed the magazine in the copy's hand and yanked it out of his dry hand.  
"Shut up! I'm ready! You know nothing about me!" he snarled.

The doppelganger laughed merrily at Brendon's outburst. "I know everything about you. If you were ready you wouldn't reek of alcohol now." he said and shook his head.  
Brendon's mouth hung open.   
"Look! There's batman!" the doppelganger suddenly screeched and pointed towards the door. Brendon was surprised and looked over his shoulder. There was certainly no batman by the door.  
Dumbfounded, Brendon looked back only to see that his doppelganger had vanished.


	3. Heart In Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon and Ryan drink coffee together. The doppelganger arrives again in an effort to make Brendon understand that he is an alcoholic.

Brendon was sweating and breathing heavily when he opened his eyes. It was morning but Brendon couldn't remember how he had got to the bed. He had no memories of getting himself comfortable in bed or falling asleep whatsoever. One thing he did remember though was the bad dream he had dreamt.  
It had been one of those dreams where you see something horrible coming closer and closer to you but you can't use your legs and run.

The singer's head was throbbing and he felt like his brain was pushing itself out of his nostrils and ears. Not like massive headaches and hangovers was something new. Brendon knew little about medicine and the art of healing but he sure did know how to cure himself from a nauseating hangover.  
The first thing to do is to swallow a couple of aspirins, rest and wait for the pain to go away.  
The second thing is to drink more alcohol and simply take the hit later.

Since Brendon still was out of aspirins he decided to go with the second alternative..

He rolled out of the comfortable bed and walked into the kitchen on his newly awakened and wobbly legs. His body automatically moved towards the liquor section. The precious bottles were standing in neat lines.  
Brendon smiled and reached for a bottle of whiskey. The shape of the bottle was similar to the anatomy of a curvy woman. A tiny waist and a juicy bottom.  
He did feel slightly guilty and ashamed for drinking as the doppelganger seemed to want him sober.

What the hell, I only live once, the singer thought and let his slender fingers embrace the cool neck of the dark bottle. As Brendon heightened the bottle into the air it felt alarmingly light. It was nothing left in the bottle.  
Brendon growled and shook the bottle to be absolutely sure that there was nothing left there to sip on.

The bottle faced its death as soon as it hit the floor as the secret of its emptiness was revealed. Brendon then reached for another bottle in the liquor section only to find out that it also was empty. Soon the entire kitchen floor was covered with shards of glass in different colours.  
Brendon was shaking with anger and annoyance. He could have sworn on the fact that he had had plenty of booze in his liquor section just one week ago.

The only drink which contained alcohol that Brendon could find was a cider. Not even enough to make an ant drunk. The singer inhaled sharply. What to do?

He danced over the kitchen floor to avoid stepping on any shards of glass and getting his feet stabbed by them. It was a miracle how he succeeded with getting from one part of the kitchen to the other in one piece. His aim for the dangerous journey was the cell phone lying on a kitchen worktop on the other side of the room.  
Brendon grabbed the small communication device and looked at the time on the display. 11 am. Not too early to call Ryan, he thought and dialed the number which he had dialed so many times before.

It beeped three times before it clicked and Brendon could hear Ryan's voice. "Fuck you for waking me up." Ryan moaned groggily. Brendon smiled briefly.  
"Get out of bed, Ry. I'll see you at Starbucks at noon." the singer said and ended the call. He knew very well how those short and dominant calls made Ryan crazy.

The following hour Brendon took a shower, sprayed himself with perfume, shaved and found a pair of black jeans and a striped hoodie to wear. Then he got into his car and drove the fifteen minutes necessary to get to Starbucks. Ryan stood by the entrance wearing a brown cap, a green military jacket, skinny jeans and a sour face.  
"Long time no see!" Brendon twittered to receive a grunt from Ryan. "Yeah, so why couldn't you wait another hour?" the older man said grumpily but soon his face cracked up into a smile.  
"It's so good to see you again." Ryan continued.

The two boys entered Starbucks and ordered two big capuccinos. They then sat down in a booth to get some privacy. The warmth of the coffee made it hard for Brendon to keep the mug of paper in his hand. He put it down on the table quickly and exhaled.  
"So, do you have something special on your mind?" Ryan asked after a moment of total silence. Brendon scratched his cheek absent-mindedly. His thoughts were someplace else. He thought about what kind of booze he would have to buy after the Starbuck's visit.

"Huh? Not really. I just wanted to see you." Brendon said slowly. Ryan grimaced and furrowed his eyebrows. "You have become so distant from us nowadays. We all miss having you around." Ryan said sadly.

Brendon got a lump in his throat. He never meant to treat anyone badly. "I'm so sorry. I'll get my ass to the next band practise, okay?" the singer said.  
Ryan nodded ever so slowly and looked at Brendon's eyes. Their glances met and Brendon felt uncomfortable because of the eye contact. He tore his gaze away from Ryan and pretended to look through his pockets.  
"I miss the times when it was you and me against the world." Ryan blurted out and his cheeks turned pink.

Brendon thought about what Ryan had said. It had truly been them against the world. They had hung out every single day, playing instruments and dreaming of a successful future for the band.

"I miss those times too." Brendon confessed and took the last sip of coffee. The mug was now empty and it felt like it was time for the two boys to part. Brendon left the empty mug on the table and stood up.  
"Thanks for seeing me with such a short notice." Brendon said and swallowed hard. He wasn't happy about walking away from Ryan. "Thanks for calling me." Ryan said and walked over to Brendon and wrapped his long arms around his neck and squeezed him. The hug was stiff and brief.

Brendon's legs were shaking as he got into his car and turned the engine on. His body knew what he was about to do. He was about to drive to the liquor store.

He stumbled out of the car as he got to the destination. It was like heaven. He entered the front doors feeling on top of the world. Brendon's eyes scanned the store and he shivered with relish. He was also the only person in the store which would make it less embarrassing to buy great amounts of alcohol.  
As he walked through the isles he felt a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he turned around and found himself staring into the face of his doppelganger.

"What are you doing here? People can see you!" Brendon hissed agitatedly. The doppelganger grinned and looked at the label on a bottle. "I'd choose this one if I was a fool, like you." he said. Brendon shook his head and growled.  
"Go away!" he snarled quietly as he didn't want to attract any attention from the shop's owner. "Fine. I just thought that I needed to at least try to stop you from destroying yourself further." the copy of Brendon said and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Brendon's heart was racing as he randomly grabbed a couple of bottles from the shelves and hurried to pay for them.


	4. Pictures Of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon looks through a photo album which contains pictures of him and Ryan.

Brendon looked at the refilled liquor section with relief. It calmed his nerves to know that he had the alcohol standing there waiting for him, just in case he felt like having an innocent drink or two. Brendon didn't think that he was addicted to the intoxicant liquids. No, he believed that he could quit drinking as soon as he set his mind on it.  
But why deny myself a good time? he though to himself.

It couldn't be that bad since Brendon was nothing like those old men lying on park benches with shredded clothes and saliva in their beards.  
Brendon was fresh and healthy. A man in his best years. A hot stallion.  
The doppelganger had no sense of reality if he couldn't see how happy and strong Brendon was with alcohol in his system.

When Brendon was in the city he seized the moment and bought aspirins, new underwear and toilet requisites. He placed the aspirins on his bedside table and threw the empty package away.  
The singer noticed that he had a lot of cleaning to do as he got home too. The kitchen looked like a battlefield with the broken bottles all over the floor. Brendon shook his head slowly.  
Before getting down and dirty to clean the mess up he drank greedily from one of his newly purchased bottles of tasty liquids.  
Immediately a kind of calmness arrived to his battered body.

Brendon simply couldn't, or didn't want to, realise that he in fact was addicted. He was the typical hard drinker, not noticing the amount of alcohol he chugged every day and getting isolated to be alone with his addiction.  
Brendon Urie was in desperate need of help but unable to ask for it.

Brendon grabbed a dustpan and swept the shards of glass up and threw them in the already full bin. Plenty of the colourful shards fell right back out on the floor. The singer was too happy to notice that.  
He felt like it was a good idea to do some old fashioned chores around the house.  
Brendon cleaned the shower, put the dirty laundry in the washer, vacuumed parts of the house and did the dishes. By the time he was done it was already dark outside. Brendon smiled and felt in his heart that it had been a quite good day.

He had seen Ryan, bought necessary supplies and cleaned parts of the house. Since he was very proud of himself he decided to award himself with some booze. Brendon grabbed the bottle which he had drank from before and gulped down some of the contents.  
The familiar burning sensation when the liquid went down his throat was soothing and the warmth afterwards like a lullaby.

Brendon strolled into his living room, decorated in a Moroccan theme, and scanned one of his bookshelves. His eyes soon found what they were looking for and he pulled the thing out.  
It was a photo album. The album's binder was deep red and shiny. Brendon smiled as he looked at it. The singer then walked to his sofa and sat down on it.

He stroked the photo album's cover gently with his fingers like it was a vulnerable baby. The black letters on the photo album said 'Ryan'. It was the place where Brendon had stored every picture of him and Ryan together.  
Most of the pictures were taken a long time ago, before Brendon loved bottles more than his friends.

Brendon opened the photo album slowly and sighed when he watched the first picture. It was a picture taken exactly one year ago. The picture was of Brendon and Ryan sitting in a park. It was spring, the grass and the trees were green. The boys sat on a checked blanket on the ground. Brendon was leaning on Ryan's shoulder and they both smiled.  
Brendon shivered when he watched the picture. He could almost smell the flowers and the scent of the newly cut lawn.

Brendon turned the page and looked at the next picture of him and Ryan. It was a picture of their faces close to the camera. Brendon was squeezing his eyes shut and frowning while Ryan pulled an ugly grimace.  
That photo triggered a memory for Brendon. He remembered that day very well. Just after the picture was taken, Ryan had accidentally brushed Brendon's arm with his hand. Brendon had jolted and stared at Ryan.  
Something happened that exact moment. None of the boys could really explain it but they were pulled towards each other like magnets. Ryan's lips brushed against Brendon's and the singer had never felt so happy and so confused.  
They then pulled away and it was like nothing had ever happened.  
Brendon nor Ryan had talked about it.

Brendon sighed heavily and decided to put the photo album away. It hurt him too much to look at the pictures. He couldn't understand why he and Ryan weren't that close anymore.  
The thing he didn't think about was that it was his fault. He was the one pulling away. But in Brendon's brain, Ryan was the one letting him down.

It was late and the house was dark. Brendon felt so lonely. Like he was the only living person in the world. He stood up on his legs and breathed loudly. "Fuck!" he screamed. His emotions were like a storm. They changed every second.  
"Fuck this! What am I doing here?" Brendon yelled and kicked the sofa with all of his powers. The anger from within was unleashed. Brendon kicked the sofa multiple times until his powers failed him.

He was out of breath and his heart was beating like a hammer from inside of his chest as he stormed into the kitchen and grabbed the first bottle of alcohol he could find.  
Brendon put his lips to the opening and let the liquid dance down his throat. He stopped to breathe. The singer now felt quite dizzy.

Then he resumed his drinking. Drenching and murdering the emotions was the only thing he could think about. When he put the bottle down the second time he felt funny.  
He could see the comical side of everything. Even the tap was extremely amusing. Brendon chuckled and heightened the bottle again.  
As he put it down the third time it was almost empty and he now felt sick. He could feel his stomach turning and grabbed the sink with his hands before the loads of stomach contents escaped his mouth. The sink was full of chunky vomits and smelled awful.

Brendon scrunched his face up and groaned. He felt so tired. So damn tired.  
The bed, he thought and took a wobbly step towards his bedroom. It was an effort doomed to fail. Brendon's balance wasn't present.  
The singer stumbled and fell to the ground, where he stayed. Even if Brendon wasn't in his right mind he knew that there was no way that he could walk all the way over to the bed. He had accepted that the kitchen floor was his sleeping place for the night.  
He closed his eyes and was embraced by darkness.


	5. A Fever You Can't Sweat Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon's secret almost gets discovered.

Outside of Brendon's house the world was smiling. It was the early morning of a brand new day.  
Birds were twittering as they sat on branches of the emerald green trees in Brendon's garden. The grass on the lawn was long and untrimmed. Weeds grew freely and unrestrainedly.  
The sun could be seen as a red semicircle far away, playing with the horizon. It was on its way up to greet the newly born day.  
Everything was peaceful on the outside of the singer's house. That couldn't be said about the inside.

On the kitchen floor the famous singer laid. Splayed flat out. Legs and arms twisted together in a tangled mess. He was not yet awake, but on the edge of snapping out of his dreams. Brendon inhaled and exhaled slowly. His chest was moving up and down as a sign and a proof of how alive he really was.  
The sleeping man whimpered and moved his arm in his sleep. His face was resting against the cold floor and some drool had trickled down his chin. He practically had his face in a puddle of his own saliva.  
After an hour or so, the sun had decided to pay Brendon's kitchen a visit. The sunlight trespassed the house's windows without permission by its owner.

Brendon wrinkled his forehead and groaned. He didn't want to wake up since he knew how bad the hangover would be. "No, no, no." he mumbled and grounded his teeth.  
He soon realised that it was too late and that he already was wide awake. Brendon opened his eyes slowly and bit his lip hard to fight the urge to scream because of the pains in his head caused by the sun.  
His muscles were sore from sleeping on the hard surface in such an awkward and unplanned position. The bottle which had been the cause of Brendon's stood innocently on a kitchen worktop and Brendon could imagine it laughing at him.

Brendon wiped the drool off of his chin and scrunched his face up. It was certainly not the most pleasant way that Brendon had woken up in his life. In fact, he couldn't recall experiencing a morning this bad.  
The singer's mouth felt dry. Desert dry. He let his tongue wander across his teeth and it felt like grains of sand were stuck on them.

Brendon figured that it was time to get up, take some aspirins and brush his teeth. He didn't really want to move his aching body, though.  
When he finally set his mind on standing up it required tons of energy to do even such a simple task.

On hobbled steps the brunette man walked into the bedroom. He reached for the new package of aspirins and popped three of the small white pills out in his hand.  
Without water they ran down the singer's throat.

The next stop on Brendon's short journey was the bathroom. He refused to take a look at himself in the mirror hanging over the messy sink. Brendon already knew that he wouldn't be in for a nice surprise if he did choose to look at himself.  
He quickly brushed his teeth and spat the foam out. It disappeared into the drain as he put the tap on and water flushed it down.

Since the aspirins hadn't started working yet, Brendon went back into the bedroom and laid down on his bed. He felt how he smelled quite bad from sleeping in the same clothes he had been wearing the previous day.  
Brendon just didn't bother to either change or take his clothes off. He sighed happily when his stiff neck rested on a soft pillow.

He felt like he could need an extra hour of sleep. In a matter of seconds he drifted off to sleep.

The next thing Brendon felt was something wet on his forehead. What could it be? Brendon opened his eyes slowly and saw an arm with a wet towel in its hand. The towel was the wet thing on his forehead. It felt nice as it was cool.  
The arm belonged to... Brendon couldn't believe what he was seeing. The arm belonged to Ryan!  
What he had thought at first was that it had probably been the doppelganger playing tricks on him again, but no. It was Ryan Ross who sat on Brendon's bed and patted his face with a towel.

Brendon was at first excited, then worried. Had Ryan seen the empty bottle of booze in the kitchen? Could Ryan sense the smell of alcohol from him?

Ryan smiled worriedly when he noticed that Brendon was awake. "Brendon? Are you okay?" he asked and removed the wet towel. Brendon missed the feeling of it on his warm skin but didn't say anything about it.  
"I'm fine." Brendon coughed and forced himself to smile. It was the time to pretend like everything was OK. Either that or get caught.

Ryan shook his head shortly. "Don't lie to me! I know the truth." he said. Brendon froze. Did Ryan know that he enjoyed drinking? The singer inhaled oxygen with his nostrils.  
"I...I can explain." Brendon started. Ryan cut him off before he had the time to say another sentence.  
The older man sighed and shook his pretty head once again.

"You don't have to explain anything. I don't know why you're doing this, Brendon. Why can't you just admit when you're feeling bad and need help? I'll come over and check on you anytime." Ryan said and smiled. Brendon's mind couldn't grasp what Ryan had said. Check on him? What the hell was Ryan talking about?  
"I don't understand." Brendon admitted. The guitarist placed his palm on the side of Brendon's head.

"You are sick. Hell, you're so warm that it's a miracle that you haven't bursted into flames already." Ryan said dramatically. So, that was why Brendon hadn't got told off. Ryan simply thought he had a fever.  
Brendon sighed with relief and smiled.

"Really? Thank you for coming over to check on me." Brendon said unaffectedly like the actor he was. Ryan nodded and folded the wet towel and placed it on the floor next to the bed.

"Sorry for just coming over. I tried to call you like a thousand times and I got so worried when you didn't answer." the older man mumbled. Brendon cocked his head to the side. "Ryan, you are a good friend." he said.

When Ryan had left the house a couple of minutes later, Brendon felt empty. Empty because he had lied to Ryan so many times not to get caught. Empty because something within him had wanted to get caught.


	6. Getting Cozy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon is terribly sick and Ryan is there to help him.

The funny thing was that Brendon actually got sick. A couple of hours after Ryan's visit he started feeling hot alternately cold. Even if his temperature was up the roof he was still shaking violently.

A headache had begun to form too, not different from the pains he experienced when he was having a hangover. Brendon was simply sick.

The singer tried to roll out of bed but his limbs wouldn't obey him. They were weak and wobbly like boiled spaghetti.

How is it possible to get so sick so fast? he asked himself. Brendon felt so tired. He now understood how Sleeping Beauty could sleep for one hundred years at a sitting, or at a sleeping.

Brendon's hazy dark eyes scanned the bedroom. Everything seemed peaceful and quiet. Not a trace of worry or the doppelganger could be seen. Brendon decided that it was safe for him to allow himself to fall asleep.

He closed those hazy eyes and exhaled sharply. It didn't take long until he fell asleep.

______________________________________________________________________________________-

When Brendon woke up again the first thing he saw was Ryan's face. He didn't know for how long he had been sleeping. An hour? A day? A week?  
The only thing he knew was that he felt like crap and still wanted to go back to sleep.

As he swallowed a rippling pain crossed his throat. It felt like someone had scattered salt on small wounds inside his throat. He scrunched his eyes closed and whimpered, that also hurt.

Brendon made a small note to himself that talking was painful at the moment.

Ryan stared at Brendon uneasily. "Have you even left the bed since I was here the last time?" he asked slowly. Brendon shook his head briefly, from side to side. Ryan grimaced.

"Oh dear," he breathed. Brendon started feeling worried. He now noticed how the sheets clung to his body because of the sweat that had poured from his pores.

"So you've laid here two days? Shit. I should have never left your side," Ryan said, more to himself than to Brendon. Brendon couldn't imagine the sight Ryan saw. Brendon's face was covered in sweat, his lips slightly parted and he was pale as a sheet. The singer looked like he was dying.

"You need food," Ryan mumbled. Strangely enough, Brendon didn't feel hungry at all. The only thing he craved was alcohol. The singer could have sworn that a drink would make him feel better.

"No," Brendon grunted through clenched teeth. Ryan looked a bit surprised and worry painted his innocent-looking face.

"I'll go make you some soup," the guitarist then said like Brendon's disapproval hadn't mattered. The skinny man exited the room and Brendon could hear his steps walking towards the kitchen. He could do nothing but stay in bed. Even if he tried he couldn't move.

After a couple of minutes Ryan came back with a bowl in his hands. Steam came from it, indicating that its content was newly made and very hot. Ryan sat down on the bed next to Brendon.

"You didn't have much in your fridge but I managed to make something," the older man said. If Brendon had enough powers he would have punched the bowl right across the room. Brendon grimaced and tried to stare Ryan down. The older man turned his gaze away, looking down at the bowl. He let a spoon dance around in the bowl to mix the ingredients up.

Then Ryan took a spoonful of the soup up and started blowing cool air on it. His lips were so close to the spoon and Brendon understood what Ryan was about to do, which made him very angry. He didn't want to be spoon-fed like a damn baby.

Ryan then put his hand, with the spoon in it, to Brendon's mouth. As a protest the singer pursed his lips together. There was no way he would abandon his dignity for this. The warm metal of the spoon pressed against his lips but the younger man still refused to give in.

"Please?" Ryan pleaded, "I just want to help you."  
Ryan locked his eyes with Brendon's. Brendon felt a sting of sadness seeing his friend looking so worried.

Reluctantly, Brendon opened his mouth and let the spoon slip into his mouth. Ryan grinned widely, from one ear to the other.

"Good Brendon," he said. The soup tasted like meat, tomatoes and... curry? Brendon kept a straight face not to make Ryan sadder even if the soup was disgusting. It was way too salty and the combinations in it didn't appeal to his taste buds.

After an agonizing hour the soup was gone. Brendon leaned back and was happy to know that he never would have to eat something like that again. Then he felt something very familiar. A pressure. Nature was calling.

"Bathroom!" Brendon said as his eyes widened. Ryan eyes widened too. "Do... Do you... Do you need help with that?" Ryan choked.

Brendon felt so helpless. He nodded slowly as a yes. Ryan shook his head briefly. Brendon imagined that Ryan was in conflict with himself.

"Well, let's go," Ryan whispered. With the older man supporting him, Brendon managed to get inside the bathroom. Ryan helped him to stay standing in front of the toilet.

Ryan blushed and his face turned bright red. He looked away as Brendon did what he had to do. They both then made their way back to the bedroom. Brendon laid down on the bed.

Ryan took the covers and wrapped them around Brendon's body and fluffed his pillow up. Brendon felt like a caterpillar in a cocoon. It felt safe to be surrounded by the soft covers. Ryan put his hand on the singer's forehead before he turned away. Brendon closed his eyes briefly before he opened them in panic.

"Ryan?" Brendon cried out. The older man was on his way to get out of the room. "Yeah?" he replied, standing in the doorway.

"Don't leave me," the singer whispered helplessly. He was afraid to be alone. That was when he wanted alcohol the most and when the scariest things happened, like the appearances of the doppelganger. Ryan returned to the bed where Brendon laid.

Brendon was surprised when Ryan also laid down on the bed. The older man turned Brendon to his side so that he was facing the window and let his long arms snake their way around the singer's body. Brendon could feel the steady rhythm of Ryan's heart against his back and it soothed him. Nothing dangerous could happen with Ryan there.

"Try to rest now. I'll be right here when you wake up," Ryan mumbled into Brendon's ear. The older man then nuzzled his face into the crook of Brendon's neck. That was enough for Brendon to relax the muscles in his body and he drifted off to sleep while counting the beats of Ryan's heart.


	7. Alcohol Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon gets bad cravings for alcohol and needs to find a way to get Ryan out of his house.

When Brendon slowly started to wake up from his healing and necessary sleep he felt a pair of arms wrapped around him. Ryan's arms.

The older man was snoring into Brendon's ear but it didn't even bother him. Brendon was just so happy that he didn't have to be all alone.

His body didn't feel so heavy and stiff anymore and his head wasn't aching as bad either. He guessed that the worst part of his sickness was over.

No sunbeams penetrated through, or under, the thick material of Brendon's blinds. It was probably night or the sun was covered by dark clouds.

Brendon found himself really wanting to have a drink. The desire took the form of a thousand ants crawling in his body. Brendon wanted to rip his skin open to free them. He knew that the only thing soothing his nerves would be alcohol.

But he couldn't drink with Ryan around. He had to get rid of him.

Brendon removed Ryan's arms from their tight grip around his body then he rolled over so that he was facing Ryan. The singer watched how the older man slept peacefully. His eyes were closed, his hair messy and drool trickled down his chin onto Brendon's pillow.

The shirt Ryan was wearing had got crinkles all over it.

Did everyone look so young and innocent when they were sleeping? Would a terrorist look harmless in that state too?

Brendon let his thumb sweep over Ryan's chin to remove some of the saliva running down it. That seemed to be enough to wake the guitarist up.

His eyes twitched and then fluttered open slowly. Brendon smiled sweetly. "Morning," he said.

"Morning," Ryan replied. "How are you feeling now?"

"Much better!" Brendon answered cheerfully. His mind then went to how he was supposed to get Ryan out of the house. Since Ryan was such a caring person it would take a lot of effort to convince him to leave Brendon's side while he still was the tiniest bit sick.

Ryan immediately placed his hand on Brendon's forehead. "Your temperature seems to be normal," he mumbled. It turned on a light of hope inside Brendon's body. Maybe he would leave if he thought Brendon was healthy enough. All the singer wanted to do was to chug down a bottle of beer. The cravings for alcohol made him want to scream out loud. Instead he bit his lip and looked at Ryan nervously.

"You look weird," Ryan stated after a couple of seconds. Brendon inhaled air deep into his lungs. "I'm hungry," the singer lied.

Ryan's face lit up and his eyes sparkled. "Can I get you something?" he asked. Brendon knew that by saying that he was hungry he would turn Ryan's nurturing instincts on.

Brendon pretended to be thinking about options for awhile before he answered.

"I want pancakes."

Ryan grimaced slightly. "I don't you have enough ingredients to make that," he mumbled sadly. Brendon looked like he was sad too even if it was all an act.

"Too bad. I have really bad cravings for pancakes," the singer said and pouted. He could see in Ryan's eyes that his brain was moving in a rapid pace. In reality the only thing Brendon craved was alcohol and certainly not pancakes.

Ryan suddenly got out of the bed and tried to straighten out his very crinkly shirt. "I'll go buy you some pancakes and then I will come back to you," he said.

Brendon nodded slowly. "Thank you," he said as Ryan left the room.

The exact moment that Brendon could hear the front door being both opened and closed he jumped out of the bed. His legs were still a bit wobbly but he could manage standing on them.

When Brendon was about to step out of the bedroom he saw something that didn't please him at all. His doppelganger had appeared right in front of him.

The doppelganger looked stern and unamused. "Where do you think you're going?" he snarled.

Brendon shook his head. "I'm about to go and get some alcohol in my dried out fucking system," Brendon snapped back at the copy of himself. He then pushed past the doppelganger and rushed to the kitchen and the liquor section.

"You're stupid, Brendon!" the doppelganger called out after the singer and followed him to the kitchen. He watched Brendon taking a bottle of beer out and opening it.

"Does this piss you off?" Brendon asked and smirked as he put his lips to the opening of the bottle and heightened it to pour liquid down his throat.

The doppelganger shrugged. "I can't really stop you from killing yourself, can I?" he asked with a hint of hopelessness in his voice. To answer him Brendon took another big gulp of the beer and looked delighted.

"It's your choice," the doppelganger sighed and disappeared with a bang.

Brendon drank the last of the bottle of beer in peace. He then threw the bottle into the bin and walked upstairs where he brushed his teeth to get free from the smells, he then walked into the bathroom and laid down on his bed.

He was ready for Ryan to come back.


	8. Pretty Odd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon is still fighting his inner demons. he can't make up his mind. Does he want Ryan or not?

When Ryan came back from his trip to the grocery store he didn't waste any time on anything else but cooking. Brendon could hear from his bed, where he laid, that Ryan whisked the batter and then the bubbling sound when the cool batter hit the hot frying pan.  
Brendon wasn't really craving pancakes. It had all just been a trick to get Ryan out of his house so that Brendon could take a drink without getting questioned about it.  
Sick men aren't supposed to fuddle.

Brendon put a smile on his face as Ryan bashed into the bedroom with a plate full of golden pancakes in the secure safety of his hands. They were so hot that a steam came out of them and they smelled delicious too.

As Ryan got closer Brendon could see the brown syrup that was sprinkled over the pancakes. Yum.

"Hey. Looks like you have done a great job with those," Brendon cooed and let his lips twist into a grin as he pointed towards the plate with food on it. Ryan couldn't have been prouder. The guitarist's back was so straight and his head was held so high that you could have mistaken him for a street lamp.

Brendon was sincerely happy that Ryan had succeeded with his cooking this time. That could not be said about the soup which the older man had made earlier. It had been a mess of flavours that simply didn't go well together.

Since the singer had alcohol flowing in his system he felt harmonic and well-satisfied with everything that was going on. He decided that he would try to eat all of the pancakes even if he wasn't hungry. Just to please Ryan.  
Brendon thought of it as his kindest deed yet. Politeness was important in the young man's mind.

Ryan helped Brendon to sit up in the bed, his back resting against some pillows that Ryan had stacked up. Ryan then put the pancakes in Brendon's lap and sat down on the bed to watch him eat.  
Ryan's big dark eyes followed Brendon's every movement carefully. He seemed to be genuinely enjoying seeing Brendon pleased.

The singer sent the guitarist a weak smile before he pierced a piece of the syrup-drenched pancake on a fork and let it travel through the air to it's goal - Brendon's mouth.  
The flavours exploded in his mouth. He had to admit that it tasted like a piece of heaven.

"Yum!" Brendon cheered over-excitedly to make sure that Ryan got the hint. His gesture was appreciated since Ryan grinned like a fool back at him.  
"You liked it?" Ryan asked like a child that needed confirmation from a stern parent. Brendon nodded and took another mouthful on the fork and stuffed it into his hungry oral opening.

A sigh escaped the singer's mouth as he completed the meal. The belly was about to explode as the pancakes started to swell in there. He was delighted though, it had definitely been worth it. Both because of the taste and the happiness it gave Ryan.

Brendon knew very well that Ryan probably was the best friend he would ever get and he was eternally thankful for that. Having Ryan around was like having an amusement park in your room. You'd never get bored in a million years.  
Everything about Ryan was a ball.

Still Brendon couldn't stop his mind from thinking other thoughts. A part of him wanted to have Ryan gone so that he could interact with his bottles all by himself.  
His relationship with booze was strong. But was it stronger than his friendship with Ryan?

He couldn't help but wonder if Ryan would stay another night. He sure didn't hope for that. Then he would need an excuse to go downstairs - alone - and digest some liquid gold.  
Brendon knew that the bottle of beer that he just drank wouldn't be enough for more than a couple of hours. Then the body would start to tingle and crave more to keep the flow going.  
Or else the sweats and shakes would come.

Ryan put away the empty plate on the bedside table with a happy sigh. His eyes sparkled and reminded Brendon of the reflection of the sun which you can see on water surfaces on sunny days.  
That's how enchanting and beautiful it was. Almost like a fairytale.

"So..." Ryan started, "we have talked when you were gone. You know, the guys in the band."

Brendon nodded. He wasn't sure where this was going. By the looks of Ryan it seemed like he was about to get kicked out of the band.  
Ice started to spread like poison in his veins. It wasn't fair! They couldn't do that to him after everything they had been through.

"And we figured that since we have so many new songs, why not record another album?" Ryan continued and grinned like a Cheshire cat.

Brendon let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't kicked out. At least not yet.

The thought of recording a new album was highly appealing since he remembered how much fun it was to do A Fever You Can't Sweat Out.  
The band would hang out, occasionally record some songs and then drink. Mostly just fuddle and have a good time.

"Really?" Brendon asked, his voice was slightly unstable. After all, he had just thought that he was out of the band. That would rock any one's world.

"Yeah! We're going to present the idea and some of the songs to the record label soon but then you have to sing it with us!" Ryan twittered happily. You could see in his eyes that he was very excited about the idea.

"I'll do it. I'll learn the songs," Brendon said. Ryan squealed and threw his arms around Brendon's neck.  
Brendon returned the hug, quite stiffly. It felt good and weird to have Ryan so close. He could feel the musky and spicy scent of the guitarist's perfume as he clung like a koala on Brendon.

After a couple of seconds Ryan let go. He was grinning, the corner of his mouth reaching from his right ear to the left one.

"Fucking awesome! I knew that I could count on you. Still , we need to name the new album," Ryan said pensively.

Brendon couldn't really give that many suggestions since he hadn't heard the music yet but he was still determined to at least try.

"We can call it Our Second Try? Or maybe Tales Of A Panic Attack?" Brendon tried only to receive grimaces from Ryan.

"Those names are pretty odd," Ryan said slowly.

Something clicked in Brendon's mind and a light bulb appeared above his head. "I got it!" the singer screeched, "Let's call it Pretty Odd!"


End file.
